Before The World Catches Up
by roadsuntravld
Summary: Massie Block has returned to New York sooner than anyone would have anticipated, and she's ready to claim her throne as alpha. But she's been gone for close to a year, and things are not the same as when she'd left them — lets of surprises will be thrown at her and there will be plenty of complications along the way; nothing that she can't handle with the PC at her side.
1. Block in Black

**VIRGIN ATLANTIC  
Saturday, January 15th — 9:13 PM**

As Massie reached for a magazine, she caught sight of her wrists and smiled. Normally she would _ew_-schew the braided, colorful pieces of fabric that adorned them, but she'd made an exception for the Pretty Committee. Seeing as she was leaving before OCD was back in session, Layne organized a friendship bracelet drive for Massie as a way of getting the whole school to say goodbye. All of her friends, or rather, the people who had always wanted to be her friends, had left bracelets on the doorstep of the estate; there were eighty-seven in all but she only wore five: the four that truly mattered, and Layne's.

The plane began careening down the runway. Bean trembled—she had a fear of flying—but Massie held her close as they peered out the tiny window. The plane went up, up, up until New York, the only home Massie had ever known, began to look like a miniature toy city, twinkling with lights, blowing her goodbye kisses. She pressed her glossy lips against the oval window and sent one back. "I will heart you forever," she muttered.

She and Bean stared out in silence as the plane soared higher. The city lights of her past disappeared behind them as they leveled off over the dark-as-coal Atlantic. Suddenly they were surrounded by blackness: her future, waiting to be filled. Massie rested her head back on the seat , flicked off the light, and wondered what that black space would look like one year from now.

"Would you fancy my nuts?" asked a boy in a Harry Potter accent.

"_'Scuse me?_" she whip-turned toward the aisle and giggled. (If only the Pretty Committee had heard that one!) A smiling pair of brown eyes were fixed on her. The boy who looked the same age as Landon was holding a silver bag of almonds. Thick black hair waved around his tanned face, making his teeth look brighter than her New Year's dress.

"I noticed you weren't eating your biscuits and I thought maybe we could trade." Dimples cut his cheeks, upgrading him from a 9 to a 9.6. If he presented a driver's license and proof of a trust fund, he might be a perfect 10.

"Done," Massie said, handing her plate across the aisle.

"So you are from New York, then?" he asked, biting into the warm chocolate chip cookie. Was it possible for someone to chew with an accent? Or were his lips that compelling all on their own?

"Born and raised," she said, proudly. "You?" she asked, regretting it immediately. "I mean, is that where you were? I mean, ah-bviously you were because you came from there but were you visiting?"

_Ehmagawd mayday!_

He chuckled. "Yup. First time. I spent the holidays at my cousins'. They live right in the city. What a blast!" he wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin and politely folded it so the chocolate skid faced the tray. Massie imagined Derrington wiping his on a sleeve or even the back of the seat. No, they weren't in American airspace anymore.

"Is that yours?" he asked, pointing at her ah-mazing new Louis Vuitton Keepall 55 carry-on.

"Yeah, I got it as a going-away present to myself," she beamed.

"Wow, you must be easy to please," he chuckled.

"Make fun all you want but I earned the money myself," she bragged, even though it wasn't entirely true. It would have been if she didn't use the sale money to buy clothes for her friends. So it wasn't exactly a lie either.

"Really?" he looked confused. "I got mine for free. Kind of comes with the application."

"Huh?" Massie said, eyeing her bag. Her KISS handbook was poking out the top of the bag. "Oh, you mean that?" she asked, kicking it with the toe of her lace-up riding boot.

He nodded. "Quite a nice place. I go there."

_Ehmagawd, this Bawtie (British hawttie) goes to KISS?_

"I'll be starting there next week," Massie said, restraining from jumping on the seat like Tom Cruise on _Oprah_.

"Well," he smiled, "I'll have to give you a tour."

"Okay," Massie smiled, nervously.

An awkward silence hung between them until he pointed to her wrist and asked, "What're all those for?"

Massie held up her wrists and examined them again in the gray light. "Oh, these? Just from friendship bracelets." She wiggled her wrists around, hoping he'd notice the Tiffany &amp; Co. cuff or ruby-and-diamond ring she was wearing instead. She felt the sudden, deep need to impress him.

He whistled a low, long whistle. "You must have a lot of friends, then."

_If only you knew. . ._

"I did in New York," she said. "But I don't know anyone in London."

The boy turned his penny-brown eyes on her and smiled. "You do now." He reached out his hand across the aisle. "Hi. I'm James."

Massie almost laughed out loud. Then she held out her hand and took his palm, shaking it firm but gently.

"I'm Massie. It's ah-_mazing_ to meet you."

* * *

**JFK International Airport  
****Sunday, September 2nd — 5:38 AM**

It was a magical moment, and more than anything, Massie Block wished she could freeze time.

Seven or eight months ago had been absolutely life-changing for the now-fourteen year old, she had been shipped off to start a new life in the United Kingdom because her dad got an unbelievable job offer across the Atlantic that he immediately took on since the Block's had been in financial crisis for a few weeks on the DL — until Massie had spilled to the Pretty Committee about the Block's being broke. That confession lifted such a heavy dead-weight off Massie's chest that she felt light again, but it wasn't enough, despite still having the support of her four best friends. There had been the briefest of seconds that the young girl had considered maintaining her life in Westchester County, a place where she'd lived her entire life, because her mother had allowed that kind of negotiation after a heart-felt talk. But that night Massie had recognized that she _needed _to go to London with her parents, leaving her best friend as the reigning Alpha of their school, Octavian Country Day — yes, the Pretty Committee saw each other during the winter and spring breaks flying back and forth since they were legally bound by contract that this arrangement was _one hundred percent_. And it was an absolute heart-stopper when William Block sprung the news that the Block's would be moving back to the United States right before Labor Day — it reminded the brunette of only a year ago when Claire Lyons had first arrived to be temporarily living in the Block's guesthouse until they found a home of their own, which they had done around Christmas time, eight months ago.

And now, here she was, reemerging onto American soil with her new pair of blue glitter-acetate with grey frame D&amp;G sunglasses perched on top of her head, debuting an periwinkle Velvet by Graham &amp; Spencer Maxina crop-top that accented her silver sky 910 Low Rise J Brand skinny jeans and black Gucci Becky Fringe open-toed boots perfectly — silently, she criticized herself and knew she was a hypocrite because she'd given her best friend-slash-biggest competitor, Alicia Rivera, a hard time last year when they'd first started the eighth grade for wearing open-toed booties. But, then again, Massie's fashion statement had taken a slant ever since she lived in London: Alicia had been right about the Euro Style, which she graciously apologized for all the times she was mean about it. She hadn't told anyone that she was returning, and would be entering the ninth grade with the people she'd grown up with, not even Claire, which definitely said something. Truthfully, Massie didn't want a _Welcome Home_/_Welcome Back _party thrown in her honor, because she knew that's just exactly what the Pretty Committee would do if she'd mentioned it during one their Skype sessions a few weeks ago — she just wanted to surprise them, and spend the next few days with them while they really caught her up on everything that she missed out on, and took her shopping for Back To School clothing that would really make her First Impression outshine everyone at their high school. Which is why she was very subtle in her text messages for the past few days, and was thankful for the time difference, otherwise her absence in not responding to their text messages could wind up making her look a little sketchy.

And she was thankful she'd managed to sleep through the entire flight back, even if her hair looked like a rats nest when she'd first woken up — but thankfully she was reassured that she looked positively stunning, which illuminated a brilliant smile on her flawless face. But 5:30 was an _ungodly _hour, but it was well worth the incredibly long plane ride to her _home_. William and Kendra flanked their daughter as they trudged through JFK International Airport in search for their long-term driver, who was more than happy to take his old job back after receiving news that the Block's were returning from their stint in Europe. As they walked, Massie wondered what would be filling the thick black fold that inhabited while she was on the plane to her new life, now that she was finally back in New York, slowly and softly biting down on her lower lip — would she be welcomed with open arms, taking her rightful place as Alpha, ripping it right out from under Alicia like she had done so many times before during their friendship? And what about her relationship with Landon Crane? _Derrick_? How would _anyone _react to seeing her strutting through the halls, the word would spread faster than a wild fire, so would rumors, and just about everything else that they could conjure up involving the infamous Massie Block.

"There's Isaac," Kendra mused in a yawn, her perfectly manicured hand gesturing toward where the familiarity of their driver pulled them in like a magnet. Massie had missed him almost as much as she missed her friends, he was like a second father to her, and she hated when she had to witness her father letting him go back in November/December because they could no longer afford to have Isaac as their driver, the same going with their long-time live-in housekeeper, Inez — and Massie immediately wondered if her father had managed to bring Inez back into their home as he'd done with Isaac.

"Finally," Both William and Massie exhaled. The brunette rubbed furiously at her amber eyes, leading her parents to where her mother had pointed out their driver, praying to God that she did not trip while she lost an eighth of her focus, but was thankful for the hand that pressed lightly at the small of her back to keep her moving.

"Mr. and Mrs. Block." Isaac smiled warmly, and Massie fought the urge to hug him, knowing that this little reunion meant more to her than it did to her parents.

"It's so good to see you, Isaac." William was the one to speak, while his wife leaned against him for support — they were all tired, and could not wait to be back home where they belonged, especially at this particular hour when everyone else was safe in their beds, and not exiting an airport to surprise their closest friends, and the rest of Westchester.

"Let's get you home," He encouraged, taking in the bruise-like shadows that were under all the Block's eyes from what he assumed to be a restless night. All of their bags had been taken care of, and their furniture had been hauled back under strict orders almost a week ago, making sure that it was secluded when all the rearranging and moving had been done, to avoid suspicion.

The Block's were notorious for these hidden agendas, plotting, and scheming, weren't they?

Massie climbed into the very last row of seats when the familiar silver Range Rover's back doors had been opened for the family, sprawling out across the black buttery leather seats and using her arms as a make-shift pillow since all of her belongings were already back at the Old English—style mansion, her amber eyes fluttering closed within seconds of touching the heated leather seats. Normally, she would have complained about the heat, but it felt exceptional to being the perfect antidote to her ice cold skin, a smile quirking at the corners of her raspberry—pink lips. The shuffling of William and Kendra making themselves comfortable one row ahead was the only thing Massie was capable of hearing, the roaring engine purred against the asphalt along with the soft-blaring music that pierced through the speakers was instantly drowned out as she drifted into a peaceful set of unconsciousness; the sound of her black Jonnie Kooba hobo bag plopping gently against the carpeted flooring of the Range Rover was the last thing that registered inside of her mind with the sudden jerking of the SUV shifting into drive, then at last, the journey commenced.

* * *

**A/N: I've been wanting to write a story set up after Tale Of Two Pretties, and after the day I've had, writing a very, very smutty chapter for my other Clique story, I want to take a step back and stick with PG-13/T-Rating for The Pretty Committee. I'm not sure how far this story will go, and I'm not entirely sure just exactly what I wanna do with it, but I'm gonna give it my best shot; wish me luck xox**

**The title _Block in Black_ is reference to AC/DC's song "Back in Black" **

**Disclaimer:  
The first half of the chapter is an excerpt from Tale Of Two Pretties — it was used as the epilogue, therefor I do not own it, and the Copy Right goes to Lisi Harrison and her team at Little Brown &amp; Company. The same goes to The Clique and its ****characters, because if I did own any of it, I would have definitely tried to have brought Massie and Derrick back together before she left for London, or given them some kind of closure since they barely interacted for the last half of the series, and made him a little more _mature_ than he'd been in seventh grade.**


	2. Qualms

**THE BLOCK ESTATE  
Sunday, September 2nd – 10:30 AM**

When Massie's amber eyes fluttered open what felt like minutes later, her vision detected on the flashing red digits on her bedside clock that it was approximately five hours since the Block's had arrived in New York. How she'd managed to sleep through not only a short drive from Jamaica, NY to her beloved Westchester County, being carried up to her old bedroom, and almost the entire morning, was way beyond something she would ever know. But what she did know was that was the best she'd ever slept in a long time since leaving for London – a flash of terror shivered through her bones at the memory of waking up every night, draining her of her energy and ripping away the beauty sleep that she deserved because of reasons she still did not understand. They weren't exactly night terrors; she hadn't had those since she was a little girl, but it was horrifying enough to cause her to shoot up, sweating and panting, frantically looking around to make sure that it definitely was all in her head.

With a small groan, Massie rolled onto her back and stared up at the familiar white ceiling, smiling to herself.

The crisp late summer air gusted in through the opened bay window, the frothy white gossamer curtain billowing around it in the gentle breeze; it warmed the Alpha's tanned, cashew-colored skin and wrapped around her like one of her old cashmere sweaters. She had missed this succulent weather in the early mornings, where in London, it was less than graceful year-round, especially in the mornings — but she wasn't complaining, since living there wasn't _too _bad. Massie was honestly just homesick, and she could tell that her parents were, too, which was why William jumped at the first opportunity to bring his family back to the United States for a high-rising job that was ten times better than his old one before they'd left for England in January. Massie's amber eyes flickered around her old bedroom — things still needed to be taken out of their boxes and suitcases, of course, but Massie had the next few days to handle that small issue. Even if the boxes took up most of her vast room, but it was nothing she couldn't handle; after all she'd lived with Claire while the guesthouse had been renovated when Alicia's slutty boy-snatching, kleptomaniac cousin, Nina Callas, had been visiting from Spain.

A light rapping on the door caught the fourteen year old's attention, and without asking further permission, as luck would have it, _Inez _trampled her way into Massie's cluttered bedroom with a silver serving tray that withheld a delicate morning snack consisting of four slices of toasted white bread, a cup of light-and-sweet coffee, and a bowl of diced up watermelon. Massie smile-thanked the housekeeper, reaching up to take the tray from her and place it in her lap, using her free hand to tuck a strand of her wiry chestnut hair behind her ear.

"It's good to see you again, Ms. Block," Inez mused in her usual, mousy accent-laced voice. How Massie had missed hearing it every day.

"I missed you, Inez." She admitted, picking up a piece of toast and dunking it into her coffee, careful not to dribble anything on her top while nibbling at the ends of the toast. The old woman smiled and pressed a kiss to Massie's head, patting her shoulder gently before turning to walk out of the bedroom, most likely to get back into the routine of her chores now that Kendra had Inez back in the house.

While Massie ate her morning snack in peace, she couldn't help but wondering how her friends would react to her return. She knew that they missed her, but she'd been gone for about eight months now, and there had been no word about coming back to New York during their Skype sessions the weeks following up to the real thing. She was good at keeping secrets, but it killed her for not coming out and telling her best friends in the entire world about what was planned — sure, if she'd said anything, the forbidden welcoming party would have been shed into light, but they would also be prepared for getting their groove back, and devouring every new thing in the mall, even though Massie had brought tons of new clothes back with her that she'd bought at the strips in London: sticking true to her D&amp;G, Alice + Olivia, Ella Moss, Kate Spade, etc...

As if Massie Block would be caught dead wearing anything short of designer clothing.

But her whole plan was to give everyone a real surprise, those who'd said goodbye to her and made her bracelets through Layne's Friendship Bracelet Drive since a verbal goodbye was out of the question; the Block's had left before OCD was back in session. Take the school by storm, even if it meant knocking Alicia back into her beta-place. . . but even she wasn't that mean. . . after all, the two of them had a heart-felt moment during Merri-Lee's New Years Yves party when they'd paid a visit to the psychic, Hermia, who had been the one to predict the coming-together of the Pretty Committee before Claire had even arrived in Westchester when the girls were in the third or fourth grade. That night had been all about changes, and accepting their new roles, but even Hermia couldn't have predicted Massie's ultimate return after not even a year of being gone. Her amber eyes flickered in a flash of sadness. How could she do that? Massie wasn't shrill, not anymore. England had definitely changed her, for the better, and honestly, if it weren't for Alicia always challenging her, the situation would be entirely different — but they weren't going to be at OCD anymore: ninth grade would be starting fresh, at the bottom, the new kids in the halls. Could Alicia handle that responsibility? Could she dominate the way Massie had perfected all five years (since Massie only started attending OCD second semester of being in the third or fourth grade) they'd traipsed the halls?

It was clear, that Massie would back off, while still holding the reigns — how was she exactly going to do that? She's _Massie Block_, she _always_ finds a way.

_I hear it calling outside my window,  
__I feel it in my soul (soul)  
__The stars were burning so bright — t__he sun was out 'til midnight.  
__I say we lose control (control)  
__This is gonna be the best day of my li-ife,  
__My li-i-i-i-i-ife, o__-o-o-o-o,  
__This is gonna be the best day of my li-ife_

The sudden blaring of American Authors' Best Day of My Life erupted from Massie's iPhone 5S, she quickly went to swipe it out from under her pillow, only to realize that it wasn't there — and it sounded a whole lot louder than it should have been, instead of being muffled. She looked around, eager to find the device, before whoever was calling decided to hang up and try again later; what if it was someone in the Pretty Committee? That could be crucial. Kicking away the blankets, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, hopping to standing on her feet, and frantically surveying her messy bedroom to find the source of her personalized music-ringtone. Massie was a little slow that morning, she groaned when she found it set on one of the boxes closest to her bed. Dragging her thumb along the screen to answer the phone, she brought it to her ear, and let out a barely audible sigh. "Hello?"

"Massie, hey. You sound like you just woke up... Did I wake you from a nap?" The familiar voice of Alicia Rivera blurted into the receiver.

"What? No. When do I _ever _take a nap, Leesh?" She snapped, biting back the yawn that was creeping up her throat while she spoke. Mentally, she slapped herself for not preparing for a phone call — of course it sounded like she'd just woken up. Because she did, technically. But it was a little after three o'clock in London, whereas it was after ten-thirty in America. Swallowing thickly, Massie decided to change the subject, pursuing in her miniature plan. Before Alicia could response, she casually asked, "What are you and the girls doing today?"

"I'm not sure yet, I think we're gonna hang at my place. Go in the pool, maybe. Nothing big." Alicia bleated, the words rolling off her tongue as if she'd rehearsed them a thousand times in front of a mirror.

"Sounds fun," She purposely sounded blasé, "My day's already almost half way over... and I've literally done _nuh_-thing."

"What? You're in _freakin' London_, Mass. How have you not done _anything_?" the Spanish firecracker gasped, and then, as expected, Alicia started rambling about how she never wasted a day while she was visiting her cousins in Spain, and that in the foreign countries, there was _always _something to do. Massie chuckled softly, gingerly reminding Alicia that she only spent the summer there, and was never in Spain for more than a few weeks — she didn't live there. But then again, if Massie physically still was in London, she most definitely would not have wasted her day, sure that she would have found something to do; perhaps go hang out with James and his friends, meet them at the pavilion, before heading out to do something fun like they had done earlier in the summer.

"Leesh, I gotta go. I'll call you later, okay?" And with that, she ended the call.

Massie glanced at her phone, a slight frown touching at the corners of her lips — she honestly hated using the stupid _Viber_ app on her iPhone, but it served as a way for the Pretty Committee to still be able to call and text without any charge. Claire had been the one to discover it not too long after Massie had moved, and they were grateful for it, since Skype couldn't always be used, and e-mail wasn't always reliable in certain situations. But once Massie revealed that she was back in town, they would no longer need the app, and could resort back to their usual communications once the Block's switched their data plans over now that they were no longer considered International. After a quick look at her clothes, deciding that she could just smooth them down instead of leaving them appropriately wrinkled from sleeping, she slid back on her open-toed boots, dropped her iPhone into her bag as she scooped it up from the floor, and marched out of her bedroom.

"Mom? Dad?" Massie called as she descended the staircase, looking around for either one of her parents, or even Inez. She knew that it was too soon to bring attention to her arrival, but she needed to get out of the house to the girls, and she did not want to pay attention to the mass of boxes inside of her bedroom; she figured she'd just do that the upcoming evening after returning from Alicia's house. And she was a little disappointed when nobody responded to her, a lonely flower blooming in the center of her chest, traipsing into the kitchen where not even Inez resided; she bit down on her lower lip harder than anticipated and sighed heavily. As much as she loved Westchester, the one thing she would miss about London was the fact that her mother was _always _home during their stint overseas — and her father's office firm had only been down the road from the Block's castle. That home hadn't been empty, they had servants practically down every corridor, and Kendra had her British friends gather at their home; William was home before dinner was brought onto the table. But now that they were back in Westchester, it was most likely that Kendra would be off playing tennis, at her yoga session, shopping with her adult friends, or doing something equally time-consuming, William would not be home until late, which would leave Inez to be the one to take care of the fourteen year old girl as if nothing had changed, resuming their activities as if they'd never left. But what was worse, is that Claire was no longer living in the guesthouse since her family had found a house of their own right before the holidays were over — Massie no longer had someone within walking distance to visit when she felt lonely.

_Great_.

Rolling her eyes, Massie shut out the lingering loneliness; she hiked her bag up higher on her shoulder as she walked out onto the front property of the estate, holding her head up high and forcing a small smile. Relief immediately washed over her when she saw that Isaac was giving the Range Rover a quick power-wash in the driveway, and she called out to him, galloping down the stone steps and walking toward the silver car. He stopped spraying water at the hood of the car and dropped the green hose onto the wet grass beside the driveway.

"Hello Massie." Isaac warmly greeted, and her smile became genuine almost instantly.

"Isaac, can you drive me to Alicia's?" She asked, her amber eyes wide and glimmering with innocence, silently telling him that all she wanted at the moment was to be in the presence of her best friends after being apart for so long. With a stiff nod, Isaac gestured for her to get into the car, before wiping his hands at the sides of his pants and adjusting the NYY baseball cap he used to protect his balding head from the scalding sun's harmful rays. She pulled open the front passenger door, hopped onto the seat, and buckled up as she closed the door after her, sliding one leg to being daintily crossed over the other; casually she checked her reflection in the side view mirror. Her hair was stilled tossed into a haphazard knot on top of her head, but once she slid her sunglasses back on, it would pass off as being very chic and sexy; her face was makeup free — she felt naked, and that was unacceptable. She held her bag in her lap, digging through for the glittery Chanel case at the bottom, pulling out the necessities, and swiftly lining her eyes with black eyeliner, dusting her eyelids with a pale gold eye shadow, and quadruple-swiping her lips with her favorite accessory — Glossip Girl lip gloss, this flavor being _Melon Madness_. And she managed to make herself look better in the few short minutes it took Isaac to get himself ready, into the car, and have the keys in the ignition; the Range Rover's engine rumbled against the gravel driveway, the car roaring to life.

The car jerked forward and Isaac pulled the Rover onto the road, turning on the radio so they didn't drive in an awkward silence. Massie relaxed against the reclined seat, staring out the window, singing along to Miley Cyrus' Wrecking Ball, tapping her manicured nails against her thigh in rhythm to the beat. However, as the drive commenced, that lonely flower blossomed once more, and Massie swallowed thickly — what if her friends weren't as excited as she wanted them to be? What if they truthfully didn't want her back, claiming that things worked out so much better when Massie was in Europe? Millions of questions crashed down on Massie like a shoe-box avalanche from the back of her closet, her throat tightening, becoming hot and itchy; she could feel the salty pre-tears forming at the hundreds of possibilities. . . more negative, than positive. It crushed Massie, shattering her into tiny diamond pieces like the ice everyone thought her heart was made up of.

"Are you alright, Ms. Block?" Isaac asked, glancing over at the girl he considered to be like a daughter to him.

"Y—Yeah.." she muttered, not realizing that all the worry and sadness that ripped apart her insides, had taken it upon itself to show physically.

"Anything you want to talk about?" he pressed gently, his blue-grey eyes focusing on the road.

"Not really," She re-positioned the passenger seat to being straight up, continuing to stare out the window, her eyes following the blurring of the trees until they turned down the familiar block that led down to the Rivera's estate. In a few short moments, all of her silent questions would be answered, that could make or break her unexpected return — Isaac slowed to a stop as they pulled up in front of the black iron gates that guarded the Spanish stucco manor. Massie smile-thanked him for the ride, opened the door and jumped out, hip-checking it closed. With a quick deep breath, she let her bag dangle from the crook of her arm, plucked her D&amp;G sunglasses out of her bag, and slid them to being perched on top of her head while punching in the memorized code that opened the gates; sauntering graciously onto the property with her head held high, shoulders rolled back and her spine relaxed, oozing Fashion Runway Model. . . along with alluded confidence that slipped between her fingers faster than Lancôme lemon and verbena cleansing bar soap — not that she would ever let her friends know that she feared showing up. They were supposed to be her friends, they _are _her best friends, and yet, _somehow_ she had the strongest feeling that Alicia, Kristen, Dylan, and Claire would not be reacting **kindly **to seeing Massie show up on the Rivera's front step.

She rang the doorbell, readjusting her bag for the millionth time and sliding it to resting on her shoulder, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited for Joyce, the Rivera's housekeeper, to answer the door. But Massie was quickly growing impatience, not even giving Joyce a chance to scurry from somewhere in the large mansion, and pushed the door open herself, casually looking around for any sign of life, and nibbling on her lower lip again. Her boots clacked against the polished marble floor, echoing off the high dome stained-glass ceiling and hollow dark-wood panel walls, creating an eerie atmosphere that reminded Massie of a scary movie; which led to her walking a little faster through the giant maze the Rivera's called a house, peering through one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows as she reached the back of the house. Instantly, her heart swelled so big inside of her chest that she thought it might pop like an overfilled balloon, at the sight of her best friends lounging on linen chaises by the pool in their bikinis, wearing sunhats instead of sunglasses to protect themselves from the UV rays. And then, the happiness deflated in that same instant.

Four girls, looking pleased with life, their lips indicating that they were giggling or laughing while talking.

They showed no sign that they wished Massie was with them that day.

Bracing herself, Massie dug her nails into her palm and pushed the door open, marching out into the Rivera's backyard. The girls were too wrapped up in their own bubbles to hear the sound of Massie's boots scraping against the patio, and helping themselves to the little sandwiches Joyce must have brought out for them to snack on while they lounged around by the pool. Swallowing thickly, Massie shed away the lingering fear that had prominently smashed against her heart the entire drive over from the Block estate, forcing her biggest, toothiest and glossiest smile as she threw her hands up in the air Ta-Da! style, and shouted, "SURPRISE!" at her friends.

"OH MY GAWD!" Four girls shrieked, a mixture of shock and panic coursing over their faces, as they sat up, frantically looking around for the source of the voice. It was clear that they thought they were just hearing things, the ghosting of Massie's voice lingering in their thoughts because she couldn't be there, haunting them. . . until Alicia's dancing brown eyes landed on the girl decked out in a crop top, skinny jeans, and open-toed ankle boots, her glossy brown hair tossed on top of her head, held back by a pair of D&amp;G's to keep strands from falling into her eyes as much as possible, her pouty lips practically reflective under the late morning September sun."

"Massie!" Alicia exclaimed, jumping up from the chaise, and nearly tackling her onto the grass from the impact of her hug. Soon after, three more girls joined in on the embrace, their arms wrapping around each other with Massie taking her rightful place in the center; squeezing her so tightly that she thought she would lose oxygen — but it was totally worth it. She'd missed this more than anything, and from the way they held onto her, all of her fears were just her subconscious messing with her because of her absence.

When they broke apart, the Pretty Committee got right down to bombarding their alpha with questions, throwing them left and right, not giving Massie an actual chance to answer anything, their eyes glistening with happy tears — you'd think that Massie had died, and this was her coming back from the dead. And in a way, it was like that. Something told her that the students at their high school, who knew her, would have a similar reaction after not hearing from her the way the Pretty Committee did, and even _they _did not expect Massie showing up in the Rivera's backyard. The girls ushered Massie over to the cluster of chaises that they'd pushed together, sitting down, their mouths moving a mile a minute, rambling excitedly, gushing over how healthy, shiny, and radiant she looked — now they sounded like she'd been in rehab; Massie inwardly groaned, put kept the smile on her face, trying to rush out as many words as possible over the chattering of her four best friends.

But one thing that was impossible to overlook, was the flash of sickening fear, judgement, and loneliness that clouded Alicia's brown eyes.

Massie swallowed hard, pretending that she didn't notice, wanting to bask in the glory of her friends for as long as possible before it turned serious.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter didn't go exactly as I planned, and I feel that I could have done A LOT better. But I have a shit ton of things on my mind, and I just wanted to get this second chapter posted. Hopefully I'll do better for the next one. Sorry if this wasn't what you expected, but I'll try my hardest to make the third chapter a good one for you guys.**

**The title _Qualms _is reference to how nervous Massie is about being face-to-face with the Pretty Committee, and how she fears that them, along with the rest of the ninth grade (and upperclassmen) would not be accepting of her prestigious return to Westchester's elite life. **

**Dictionary Definition**

**Qualm  
**_kwä(l)m,kwô(l)m/  
__noun_

_plural noun:_ **qualms**

**1**.  
_an uneasy feeling of doubt, worry, or fear, esp. about one's own conduct; a misgiving._


	3. Bit of Everything

**THE RIVERA ESTATE  
Sunday, September 2nd — 11:46PM**

The day went by in a stressful, surreal blur despite being in the company of her best friends, chatting easily as if the Pretty Committee _wasn't _upset that Massie had kept this a secret from them, sipping the complementary virgin apple-cranberry sangria's Nadia Rivera insisted that Joyce make as a way to celebrate her daughter's best friend's unexpected return from England. The afternoon was spent by the pool, basking in the warm glow of the late summer sun as Massie was filled in on everything that she missed during the girls' last semester as eighth graders at OCD. Quickly informed that Allie-Rose Singer had been suspended not even two weeks into school being back in session because she got caught sneaking off fourth period to meet up with a mysterious Briarwood boy. Layne Abeley was no longer friends with Meena and Heather because they didn't support-approve of her falling into the sleezy clutches of Harris Fisher ("Sorry Claire, don't mean to rag on your man's older brother"—Kristen); they lasted no more than two weeks because the elder boy claimed she was too eccentric and wacky for his liking. Cam's band (they were still working on a better name other than Garage Band, Massie couldn't help shaking her head but cracking a smile) was starting to get noticed, picking up more gigs and playing around their county, which made Claire ecstatic for her boyfriend and her best friend (Layne, she played the sax, and it was how she _really _got to know Harris). Chris Plovert had denounced Kemp Hurley of his title as the biggest man-hoe at Briarwood, but that, too, didn't last very long. Skye Hamilton had arrived back from Alpha Academy at the end of June and would be attending high school with the Pretty Committee. And, last but not least, Derrick Harrington was seeing an OCD girl on the down-low. At this revelation, the girls studied Massie carefully once it had been dropped—her face was stony, her amber eyes flickered with some unknown emotion that even Claire couldn't decipher. It was no secret that she had conflicted feelings since the two alphas had never gotten around to talking after they broke up, and she only realized this about a month into living in England when Dylan had mentioned that she had formally—officially—broken up with him because he was having family troubles and she just couldn't deal with that baggage—Massie had flat-out called her a selfish bitch for doing that. Even she knew that her ex was having problems in his house; he'd stayed over hers or Cam's house more times than she could count whilst they were together, and it was mainly _because_ of what he was dealing with, that Derrick dumped her. She'd just never told the Pretty Committee; it wasn't something for her to share and she respected Derrick enough to keep it between them.

As nightfall came around, they decided to have a sleepover at Alicia's, seeing as they were all already there and had made last-minute plans to go to the Westchester to go back-to-school shopping the following day—they needed to be prepared for the first day of high school, but it was an even bigger deal for Massie, seeing as she'd been gone for the last nine months and was expected to make a grand entrance. Nadia had given Joyce the rest of the night off, ordering a large pizza for the girls to share while they set up camp in the Rivera's grand living room, strewing pillows and blankets all around wherever they felt would be most comfortable. Nadia even put snacks in crystal bowls for the girls, and when Alicia's mother went up to bed, the pitcher of virgin sangria from earlier had been made into a _non_, poured into the tall swirly fountain glasses. The flickering flames in the stone fireplace tinted blue and green from the salty dry wood.

The hours ticked by, and Massie found it increasingly hard to fall asleep, while the rest of her friends were knocked out cold. Laying on the chocolate suede loveseat, she stared up at the high dome ceiling, her eyes trying to make way of the colorful stained glass pattern. Her mind wouldn't stop reeling. All she could think about was different scenarios of how the first day of school as a freshman would go, and who Derrick's mystery girl might be. . . and . . . why Landon wasn't responding to any of her texts; she'd spilled the beans that she was back in the United States and hadn't heard a peep from him the entire day. There was the possibility that her presence would go unnoticed, even by the girls she'd gone to school with before the move. But Massie would find a way, she'd make people _see _her: she always stole the show. But, there was the fact that she'd handed her alpha status over to Alicia in her departure, and it brought her back to wondering if she could **really **take the spotlight away from her friend again. Things were different now, _she _was different. Would Derrick notice her? Talk to her? Could they be _friends_ and put the middle school drama behind them? It was a burning question since long before she left for a new start in England. And then there was Landon. . . it was a new school year (they didn't even _go _to the same school, hell), they were both older, and they'd remained friends the entire time she was away, talking all the time . . . would they get back together? Does he have a new girlfriend? If _only _he would reply to her messages.

She had so many more wonders, about _everything_, but there just wasn't enough words.

* * *

Morning rolled forward, the settling dawn painted the sky a streaky watercolor of pink, orange, and gold.

Claire was the first one awake, besides Massie—she hadn't slept a wink. The two had quietly chatted while they waited for the sudden burst of energy to get them off the couches. Joyce was entering the house and getting right to work in the kitchen by 7:58AM, whipping up a hearty breakfast for the girls and Nadia, and a to-go for Len to grab on his way out to work. The smell of chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, scrambled (over-easy for Massie) eggs, and French toast carried the two girls into the kitchen, balancing their foods out on their plates eagerly. 8:42AM, in comes the rest of the Pretty Committee, piling food on their plates, sitting around the breakfast nook in a comfortable silence after thanking Joyce for making them breakfast.

Once breakfast was over and the girls put their dirty dishes in the washer, they headed up to Alicia's _Princess Jasmine_-inspired bedroom to get dressed. Thankfully, Dean, the Rivera's driver, had no problem bringing the Pretty Committee back to their respective houses so they could pick up their necessities for the sleepover the night before.

* * *

**THE WESTCHESTER  
****Monday, September 3rd — 11:19AM**

Dean had driven the Pretty Committee to the mall, the divider raised so they had the ability to talk in private without him eavesdropping—him and Isaac were alike in that way, but that was just a second-father thing or something. The two older men had to be _in-the-know_ because they were practically family, but they also knew not to spill anything to the girls' parents for that might cost them utter humiliation, and would never betray their trust like that. Dylan snacked on a bag of cherries, while flipping through the channels on the TV until she found her mother's talk-show, _The Daily Grind_—that morning she was interviewing an upcoming star, but none of the girls bothered to remember what her name was, even after Merri-Lee introduced her. _Snoozer_. Click, channel change to a re-run of Pretty Little Liars, which was a surprise since that how never aired so early in the morning on ABC Family—jokes on the girls, Dylan recorded every episode on both the Rivera's limo TV and the Block's Range Rover, because she just loved that show so much, and she knew her friends did too. Never knew what the day would bring, and this way if they ever missed an episode, they could just watch it on the way to wherever they are going.

"Call me when you're ready to leave, girls." Dean called out the window once the girls filed out of the limo, his arm resting on the door, and a big smile warming his face—it was good to see the Pretty Committee back together again, everyone could tell, they all knew how awful it was for them to be apart for so long, but they had just been getting used to the fact that Massie was so far away _right _when she moved back to New York. Funny.

Linking arms, the five unbelievably pretty girls strutted toward The Westchester mall, feet colliding with the asphalt in sync, heads held high, and glistening gazes locked straight ahead—moving together as one, as if nothing had ever changed. As if Massie had never left. And this time, they didn't even need to walk to the beat of a song, it just came naturally to them. They agreed to move from right to left, making their way around the entire mall. Wallets loaded with credit cards and cash, they were prepared to hit up every store in their path, stock up on the newest clothes that were sure to make heads turn and eyes widen as they traipsed the hall of their new high school.

It felt so good to have the waxy ropes digging into the flesh of their arms, wearing it proudly like a gold medal. It was a sign of a job well done. Bags overflowing with dark wash jeans, sheer tights, colorful (light and dark) tops, flashy bags and boxes of shoes, all of which were sure to be envied once debuted in the school year. . . You name it, anything, it's in their bags. Dylan paid for Kristen, Massie paid for Claire: they were back into the groove of things after not even a day of having their precious alpha back home where she belonged. It just felt _right_ and Massie, for the first time in twenty four hours, did not worry about what was to come. As a reward, their arms starting to get tired from holding up so many bags, they decided to make a quick stop into Starbucks after doing a little browsing in Michael Kors for new bags, watches, sunglasses, or shoes (Toasted Graham iced latte for Alicia, French vanilla iced coffee for Kristen, double chocolate chip Frappe for Claire, peppermint iced mocha for Dylan, Pumpkin Spice iced latte for Massie). Of course, it took Massie the longest because she was paying for two people (ahem, Miss Claire, we're looking at you, but don't worry), and the other girls stood around, lingering just outside the coffee shoppe waiting for their alpha, sipping at their drinks while Massie waited for hers to be finished—the new girl, presumably, had accidentally made Massie's hot instead of cold, and had to remake it.

"Look who it is," A familiar voice rang, just out of hearing-distance from Massie, who was still waiting on her drink, rather impatiently.

Alicia was the first to whip around, careful not to stumble in her boots, and a wide smile spread on her face before she could stop it. Instinctively, she smacked Claire on the arm, who turned just to scold at her beautiful friend, but quickly stopped when she saw who was heading in their direction. Kristen and Dylan looked over next, sharing an eye roll as Derrick Harrington and Cam Fisher came strolling toward the four girls, oozing swagger, wearing goofy but delighted grins.

"Hello, ladies." Cam Fisher grinned, pecking his girlfriend on the cheek once close enough.

"Fancy seeing you here." Derrick chimed in, a cheeky smirk replacing the smile on his face.

"Could say the same to you, Harrington." Alicia giggled, playfully hitting one of her bags against his leg. His eyes widened with faux hurt, and he touched his hand over his heart, turning his head away as if saying, _I can't believe you'd hurt me like that_ in some fake playful modesty. The Pretty Committee exchanged looks, each having an eyebrow raised as they wondered just what was going on—they'd never played like that before, ever. It was weird. Especially since this was Massie's (and Dylan, who she was avoiding speaking to) ex, and she was not even ten feet away, stuck in Starbucks.

"We had to pick up new shit for soccer, since practice starts soon." Cam was the one to speak up, standing beside Claire with his arm snaked around his waist. He lifted his free arm to show the white bag from the sports department store that held their new gear for the upcoming season now that school was going to be back in session.

"Do you guys just get your spots handed to you?" Alicia asked, and right away she knew that was the stupidest thing to say.

Derrick and Cam looked at each other, a look of actual hurt and almost. . . _disgust_. . . crossing their features, but it faded as quickly as it came. "No, we try out like everyone else and earn our positions on the team." That was Derrick who explained, and Alicia couldn't help but notice how distant his voice had sounded, not even looking at her, or anyone, anymore, for that matter. Her eyes flashed, studying him carefully—his head was turned toward them, but his caramel brown eyes were straying from the small group. Alicia didn't even need to turn her head—out the corner of her eye, just off-sighted from her peripheral vision, she saw the familiar back of her friend standing a few centimeters away from the entryway of Starbucks, her arms weighed down by the ton of bags she carried around the mall, stomping her foot in frustration and saying something to one of the workers, the agitation evident in her voice. Someone wasn't happy about her drink order getting messed up _again _and having to wait even _longer _just to have a Pumpkin Spice iced latte. Seriously, how hard was it? And why did it have to be _her _order that couldn't be made properly by the new girl? Why didn't they just have someone else do it, so there wasn't a scene caused in the middle of the shoppe? When Alicia focused back on Derrick, she wondered what was running through his mind—did he know that was Massie he was helplessly staring at, or did he just _hope _that it was her? It was hard to tell.

"_Finally_!" Massie nearly exclaimed a few moments later when her drink was handed to her. The barista uttered apology after apology, but the brunette just waved it off, bringing the green straw between her lips and sipping at her iced latte, offering a sweet smile as she turned on her heel. Alicia considered shouting out a warning to her friend, but it would be too late, and _that _would probably cause a scene. But it didn't matter, because as if Massie sensed it, she stopped practically dead in her tracks, swiveling on her heel to marching toward the other side of Starbucks, away from the door, away from being seen by Cam and Derrick. Alicia breathed out a sigh of relief. Derrick looked concerned, irritated, almost.

"Is that Mass?" Cam whispered lowly, but not low enough, for his girlfriend to hear. "What's she doing back? Is she visiting?"

Claire opened her mouth to speak only for Alicia to cut her off before a word was uttered, "How should we know, Cameron? It's not like we track her every move. It's hard to keep up with what the infamous Massie Block does—I mean, one minute she's moving to London, and the next, there's the possibility that she's making a grand debut back in Westchester? Puh-_lease_."

"Are you glad that she's back?" Derrick asked, and initially, Alicia did not like the sound of his tone. Something inside of her made her squirm a little.

The words slipped out before she could stop them, "Who said we were still best friends?" A round of collective gasps was heard but nobody bothered to speak up, receiving a bewildered look from Derrick, who's eyes flickered between Alicia and where Massie's retreating form had been. "I mean... if we were, she wouldn't have gone running back into Starbucks. Common sense, Derr."

"I, uh... I guess you're right." Derrick swallowed hard, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Cam dropped his arm from Claire's waist, stepping forward, he cleared his throat. "Come on, bud. We should probably get going."

"See you girls," Both of the boys scurried away before the Pretty Committee could say anything back, watching _their _retreating forms as they escaped the mall. A beat later, Massie appeared, joining her group of friends, and immediately felt uncomfortable from the way everyone was just staring at Alicia, their expressions undetermined, but their mouths set into an ugly grim line. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Uh, hello?" Massie obnoxiously sucked at her drink in hopes of getting their attention, but they were solely focused on Alicia, for some odd reason. "I have some news for you guys, if you're willing to listen, and you know, continue shopping with me." She hated the snippy, _icy _way her words had come out, but it was from habit, and she was confused; she hated more than anything to be left in the dark. But even when they snapped out of their little trance, no one offered a single detail as to what had just happened. Specifically why the boys were over there, what they had talked about.

"Come on," Dylan and Claire mumbled, their soft voices almost renouncing in disbelief.

Silence filled the air as the girls began walking around the mall again, this time without linking arms; their drinks either watered down or cooled, no longer drinkable, and immediately tossed into the trash can, except for Massie. While they walked, she contemplated telling them what happened while she was waiting in Starbucks, but her friends were acting really weird, and decided that it was best to wait it out until they were done with this funky feeling—her phone was warm in her back pocket, buzzing constantly with a new text message, and she could only hope that it was the one boy she'd been hoping to hear from since she got back to the United States. Still, she couldn't wait to dish to the Pretty Committee—but even then, it would _have _to wait until they told her what happened with Derrick and Cam while she was waiting for her iced latte. It was only fair.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hi all, I bet you're surprised to finally get an update from me with this story. Believe me, I was surprised in MYSELF for being able to come up with this. It had taken so long for me to come up with what to write for the next chapter. Yes, this could have been done a lot better, but I'm a little rusty, if you couldn't already tell, you know? Anyway, I hope you like it, and I want to hear what you think is going to happen in the next chapter before I start writing it up. Fill me in on what I've missed in your lives, I want to know everything. I've been away for much too long and I promise I will update as soon as I can, if you want me to.


	4. First Impressions

**WESTIN PREPATORY HIGH SCHOOL  
Wednesday, September 5th — 7:35AM**

The Rivera's sleek limo slowly rolled into the parking lot of where the Pretty Committee will be attending for the next four years, their breaths held and eyes wide. It was hard to believe that the moment they stepped out onto the asphalt, they were officially considered_ Freshman_; it was even harder to believe that Massie Block would actually be accompanying them on this joyous-though-nerve-wrecking day. Dean cut the engine and tapped his hairy knuckles against the glass divider, his dark illuminated form shifting in the front seat so he was able to fully look at them as Alicia pressed the button to lower what separated the girls from the family driver—it was the first-only day that Dean would be car-pooling the girls to school, since the Range Rover was highly recognizable to the former's of OCD and Briarwood, and Massie still wanted to uphold her surprise arrival at their new high school despite being somewhat spotted by the soccer boys at the mall two days prior. Dean gave a warm, reassuring smile at the five girls piled in the backseat, his brown eyes saying words that he could not form: _you're going to kill it the first day_. It was clear that he had the usual parental _sending_, just as Isaac would have the next day when he resumed dropping them off for school in the morning.

"Have a good first day, girls. Just tap on the window when you're ready." As expected, Dean sounded choked up, full of enough emotions for all of the girl's parents, or the ones who didn't get a chance to see their daughters before they left that morning. Alicia smiled and caused the divider to rise once more, Dean turned around to face the front of the car.

"Okay, girls. This is it: the _make it or break it_ moment we've been anticipating all summer since graduating from OCD." Alicia hoped her voice sounded as Alpha as she thought, but it was hard to do when _the _Alpha was sitting thigh-to-thigh with their favorite redhead. She wanted to speak with authority, purpose, and determination—that it was crucial they all made a fabulous and flawless first impression. "We need outfit-ratings and scan-overs to make sure nothing makes us look like LBR's." Her brown eyes flickered to each person; when they landed on Massie, her throat suddenly felt hot. Her chest tightened around her heart. Her stomach was knotted like an Auntie Anne's pretzel. It was hard to look at her, and not wonder what was running through her devious mind. Would she really let Alicia take the lead and be Alpha? Did she think that she could actually _do _it, when Massie had perfected it practically the night the original four had met? Clearing her throat, she announced in a small voice, "Kris, you're up first," and immediately hated herself. It made her sound nervous, wound up, and she had to sound top-shape for the rest of the girls, because _they_ were depending on _her_. She also had to remind herself that Massie was returning after nine months of being gone, this meant more to her than anyone, and as her best friend, it was her **duty** to make sure everything went smoothly.

"I've decided to make our very first debut as Freshman's in a black Bailey44 lace top and sun-faded torn AG vintage green jeggings tucked into black Vince Camuto suede boots." Kristen announced, flicking at her dirty golden blonde side plait that grazed the top of her breast, then casually moved her newly cut, super-short French girl bangs out of her aqua eyes. Alicia silently admired the lace halter-esque and exposed shoulders of her friend's top, the jeans, and the suede Sashe Slouch high heeled boots.

"9.7" Alicia decided without further commentary, avoiding Massie's eyes—it wasn't like the PC to not vote on a rating. Her eyes moved to Claire squarely. "Next."

"Can't you just skip me?" Claire asked, and Alicia immediately disliked the standoffish tone of her voice. The two of them hadn't really gotten along in the past, they didn't speak to each other all summer. . . the only reason she was still in the Pretty Committee, was because of Massie—if Alicia had kicked Claire out with no good reason, Massie would crucify her in an instant, no matter how far away she was.

"You'll go last," Alicia rolled her eyes dismissively, gesturing for Dylan to go next, and letting out a heavy sigh.

"Yay," Dylan flipped her long, tamed red curls behind her shoulder and sat up straighter, flashing a bright, sparkly smile. "I'm wearing a black Juelisa Asymmetric lace top, acid-grey denim True Religion frayed Bobby Camo shorts, and Rebecca Minkoff gladiator studded sandals." She mindlessly wrapped a loose thread from her shorts around her finger until the tip started to turn purple, then yanked it off, as she patiently awaited for Alicia's rating.

"9.5, add some gloss." She instructed, discreetly swallowing hard when she saw the narrowing of her friend's green eyes. With an itchy throat, feeling the penetrating gazes and their heat from every single person in the car, before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "you look a slut with those shorts," and immediately slapped her manicured hands over her mouth in horror. Dylan's jaw had dropped, self-consciously crossing her legs and grabbing her bag to cover her lap, her green eyes becoming watery—never had anyone inside the PC been called the _S_-word. It wasn't something they usually uttered. That was something you would usually hear from an overprotective parent, or an angry drunk boyfriend who thought you were cheating on him. But Alicia didn't know what overcame her. . .was it the style of the v-neck, multi-cut style of the shirt? The shorts? _What_? Her tongue felt like it had swollen inside of her mouth, leaving her unable to form a single word, and she knew exactly why: the angry twitching eye that belonged to Massie Block. "I mean. . ." she fumble-choked on her words, "I just... those shorts... I'm sorry, Dyl. I didn't mean it. I'm just... jealous... that you ... look better than I do." She could feel her muscles tightening, and it worried her that Dylan wouldn't buy what she said, because Alicia knew fully well that Dylan _didn't _look as good as Alicia, but she didn't want there to be any bad blood on the first day of school.

"Whatever," Dylan muttered so softly under her breath that Alicia barely heard her.

"M—Massie," the words came out in a shaky breath. She was afraid to look at her, let alone speak, but they had to finish the ratings so they could make their grand entrance for their new school.

"Pass." Massie grit through her teeth, clearly enraged by Alicia's outburst and hurting Dylan's feelings. Alicia let her eyes drift over the brunette's outfit anyway, to give her a silent calculation—an off-white and black vintage ombré Havana crochet trim top had been pulled into an off-the-shoulder and light-wash 7 For All Man Kind mid-rise skinny jeans looked fantastic on her, with red Steve Madden suede 'Semona' heels that tied at the ankle added a burst of experimental color and finished off the look to definitely earn her a 9.8 as a rating. But she decided not to say anything, instead she glanced at Claire, who solemnly shook her head. Alicia didn't need to be a brain surgeon to figure out that Claire was afraid of her rating, more than ever, because not only did Alicia diss Dylan, but now she couldn't have Massie lending her clothes at the last second since they no longer lived on the same property—from what the Latina could tell, she was dressed head-to-toe in the latest from American Eagle. It was a step up from Old Navy, or GAP. But she couldn't afford the same clothes that the rest of the PC, minus Kristen but she still managed, could.

"Do me." She ordered, purposely sounding impassive. Trying to make it seem like her feathers were not ruffled. Trying not to suddenly feel exposed and hypocritical in her royal blue Missguided scalloped lace long-sleeve crop top, black Joe's _Flawless _skinny jeans, and black velvet ballet flats—she didn't realize how much the shirt accentuated her breasts until she'd been dashing out the house so they could pick up the girls, she also didn't realize because of that, a lot more of her stomach was shown than the shirt called necessary. Her cheeks flushed red as she waited for her rating from her friends, knowing she was skating on thin ice because of the comment she'd made to Dylan.

An uncomfortable silence hung above them as the seconds ticked on, before Kristen, of all people, finally mustered up, "9.4" with Massie sneering, "you look like a slut" soon after the rating toppled from their friend's lips. Alicia cringed—she'd expected that, but it still stung, and she automatically knew just how low and hurt Dylan must have felt once that flew passed Alicia's lips only a little while ago.

"Let's go," Alicia muttered, tapping her nails against the glass to signal Dean that it was time. "I'll step out first, then Kristen, then Dylan, then Claire, and finally Massie. Link arms, and we'll walk to—"

"We're gonna walk to Good For You by Selena Gomez," Massie cut in sharply, though she was smiling: tentative around the edges. Now was the time to be civil.

"Right," She nodded. "Do a quick once-over of the person next to you, make sure there's no flyaway hairs or smudged makeup."

Thankfully, the girls did as Alicia suggested. The driver's side door opened, and the girls could hear Dean's feet proudly marching over as he rounded to the other side, his fingers latching onto the handle, and yanking the back open—the girls were temporarily blinded by the early September morning sun's rays that shone down on the limo like a spotlight. One by one, in the order that Alicia instructed, the girls slowly and casually stepped out of the limo, their heads immediately held high, their glossy lips practically reflective under the brightness. It was exactly as they expected. Heads turned, with people stopping dead in their tracks, admiring the beautiful girls climbing out the back of the Rivera's limo—the girls created a barrier as Massie was the last one to step onto the asphalt, a mysterious pair of red shoes being the only thing visible between the girls' legs. Once the anticipation had built up, watching as the girls they'd gone to school with, the guys they'd briefly encountered when OCD welcomed Briarwood after the flooding or crushed on at one point, even some upper classmen, all tried to get a glimpse of who they were blocking—had they recruited a new member of their exclusive clique over the summer? Slowly, the Pretty Committee parted to the side, allowing their resigned Alpha to step forward, coveting her middle spot between the four other girls, as if nothing had changed, as if there hadn't been any rising tension in the car all because of ratings—and that's when the eyes of every ninth grader widened. That's when the whispers started coming out in flurries, wondering what she was doing back, when she'd come back . . . and it was hard to ignore the stern, pissed off gaze that Derrick Harrington had sent in the direction of Alicia.

"One, two, three..." Alicia muttered from the far end, and the girls walked in sync to the chorus of Good For You, keeping their eyes straight ahead, refusing to break the runway-model stare they'd mastered. It was best if Alicia avoided Derrick entirely, knowing she was bound to get a lecture from Derrick, and then from her friends by the end of the day.

_Is that Massie Block?_

_What's she doing back here?_

_Do you really think she's lived in England this entire time?_

_Do you think her parents shipped her back here? I know somebody whose parents didn't want them around and did something similar. . . _

_I bet she'd gotten pregnant and had to run, or at least that's what I heard._

_I thought they weren't friends anymore. . ._

The gossip went on and on from their fellow classmates, the older students just resumed what they were doing, sneakily catching the eye of the girls as they passed, and sharing a look as if they'd been best friends for years even though this was the first time any of them would be meeting each other. But none of what was whispered about Massie seemed to bother her, it looked as if it didn't even reach her ears. She walked tall with purpose, poise, and perfection, as she led the Pretty Committee up the long flagstone walkway and into their new high school—even though she wasn't the Alpha anymore, she still rocked it, and her arrival had put on a show, as expected. Oh, the perks of being a member of the Pretty Committee. Nothing could put a damper on her mood, not any more than Alicia already had, but she was showing to quickly recover—in a few short minutes, once first bell rang, she'd be in her first class as a Freshman, ready to take the reigns as leader of the Pretty Committee by the end of the day if Alicia continued, because from what Massie could tell, she would run their clique straight into the ground. It was a shock that Alicia lasted the final term at OCD without Massie's guidance. She was truthfully embarrassed to have anointed Alicia as Alpha, but at the time, she thought she'd taught her friend well, she thought she'd taught her how to be an expert at Alpha-ism. But from what Claire had told her the night before, Alicia was on the verge of slipping big time, and has been since before the summer started (something that Kristen and Dylan vouched for, when she'd asked them before bed); and the next six or seven hours would tell where Alicia and Massie stood when it came to their positions in the Pretty Committee.

But the biggest and best thing about that day, was that she was _finally _seeing Landon Crane again after nine long months—he'd finally gotten in touch with her on Monday while the girls were at the mall, he'd been overly ecstatic about Massie's return to the U.S., and they'd made plans to see each other once school let out. She just wished that they attended the same high school, but Massie wouldn't be caught _dead _at Abner Double Day. Westin Prepatory High School was more suitable for them, and it was a lot closer than her former boyfriend's high school—she briefly flashed back to the days where she'd been insecure about her relationship, and had reduced to practically stalking Landon at his public high school, and immediately declared that she wouldn't last a _day_ there. It was too casual, and Massie Block, no matter how much she'd matured, did. not. do. casual.

"See you girls at lunch," Massie insisted once they were in the safety of being behind the closed doors. There wasn't as many people inside the building as there were outside, which Massie was eternally grateful for—it made it easier to find their first class without being lost in their classmates.

"Byyyye," the other four girls sing-songed as they parted ways, as if nothing had caused tension in the car and they were BFFs, but the lingering feeling was still there: Alicia was alone in Art, Massie and Kristen had English 9 together, Claire and Dylan had Photography I. Luckily, they'd compared schedules, and they had some classes together, as well as discovering that all of them had fifth period lunch: _perfect_. They needed to stake their claim on a table to sit at for the rest of the year, and whoever got there first was the one to decide which one it was.


	5. Questions and Unanswers

**WESTIN PREPATORY HIGH SCHOOL  
Wednesday, September 5th — 8:42AM**

American History, Mrs. Henley

As soon as Massie stepped foot into the room, she knew the rest of the day was bound to be doomed. The class alone was enough to make the brunette cringe; she'd been awful at these particular subjects in middle school, and was destined to fail because she just could never comprehend it, no matter how hard she tried, even when her seventh grade geography teacher Mr. Myner had tutored her before the girls had gotten expelled after the incident at Lake Placid. That was the first thing, the next was the artificial heat blasting through the radiator not two feet away from where she was assigned to sit, and it was making Massie's temples throb to the point where she felt like she felt a migraine coming on. And just before the bell rang for second period to begin, her third and final problem of the morning came strolling past in the form of her ex-boyfriend, Derrick Harrington. Out of all the people that filled the room, he was the only familiar face she knew. And because of the chronological order they had to be seated in, he ended sitting in the row beside her, one person back. _Joy_. When she looked over her shoulder to scan the room of ninth graders, their eyes unintentionally met, and she felt her pulse skyrocket as if she'd been spiked with adrenaline, causing her to immediately face the front of the room, focusing all of her attention on the white board, for fear he might see the redness splashing her cheeks and neck.

"Good morning, class." A petite woman with strawberry-blonde shoulder length tresses and mint-green eyes said as she faced her students, after she wrote her name in purple dry erase marker for everyone to see. And then she launched into a mini speech about how the systems work with each semester since they were probably used to something different in their respective middle schools from all over the county, and what the curricular will be over the next fifteen weeks before the new semester begins, where they'll be learning what is considered Upper Level, to get them ready for tenth grade.

Massie tried to refrain from glancing back at Derrick, but she could feel his eyes promptly staring at her head, and more than anything she wanted to know what he was thinking about, or rather _who_. It was the itching of curiosity to know who the mystery OCD girl he was seeing on the down-low was, but she was better than that to go right out to ask—to _demand _a name. It was weird. She wanted to be friendly with him—they deserved that much—but the idea of another girl kissing him made her want to gauge their eyeballs out of their sockets, someone she didn't know, none the less, only made it worse. They hadn't left on bad terms, but they weren't exactly on good ones, either, before Massie went to London. In fact, she didn't see him at all, ever since Alicia and her failed boy-girl clique tried to crash the Ho Ho Homeless charity event that had been in the Block's backyard last fall, unless you count a brief interaction on Halloween when they'd all gone together. But he was Dylan's boyfriend at the time, and communications between the exes were entirely off limits, so they never really got the chance to have a heart-to-heart, now that they were a little more mature than they had been the year prior. She wasn't gonna pretend that she didn't miss having Derrick in her life, he was a goofy kid with a sweet heart, and she'd ruined it by thinking she was above everybody, thought she _knew_ everything, and was too busy kissing Skye Hamilton's ass to focus on what really mattered, only to wind up humiliated in the end. If it hadn't been for her so-called boyfast, she would have at least made things more civilized between them, instead of having some kind of war brewing in the horizon during the first few weeks of eighth grade.

"Psst," A deepening-boyish voice whispered, demanding the attention of Massie. "I need'a ask you something." But she refused to give him that satisfaction, purposely making a show of crossing her legs defiantly and cupping her hand at her chin, resting her elbow on the edge of the desk. And in her silence, she heard the familiar _buzz-buzz-buzz_ of her cell phone being pressed against her binder inside of her bag—she could only guess who the message was from. It was easy to ignore, until the vibrations went on a continuous loop, sounding louder than ever. _Could everyone else hear it? _She hoped not. Tapping the manicured nails of her free hand on the top of her desk, she tried to drown out the sound of her phone going off, and wondered if Derrick was calling _and _texting. She couldn't remember the last time someone had been so desperate to try getting her attention, but it was also annoying, times ten. . . and that's what made it so tempting to grab her phone out of her bag.

You know, just to silence it.

Sliding down in her seat, she blindly groped her hand around until she was able to shove it inside of her bag, and patting at the contents until she felt the boxy frame of her iPhone, fumbling to pinch the corner between her fingers. Her thumb brushed over the Kate Spade case as she struggled to hold it properly, feeling a bit triumphant when she managed to firmly grab it and slowly sitting back up on the chair, plopping her iPhone in her lap. Out the corner of her eye, Massie detected the ever-so-slight hopeful smile hinting at Derrick's lips, with a flicker in his gaze to match, when she bowed her head to create a silky chestnut curtain over one shoulder to look at her screen. She forced herself to hiccup to replace the gasp that had lodged itself in her throat when she saw how many notifications awaited. **10 Unread Text Messages, 6 Missed Calls (914-233-6379)**

Tapping into her messages, she saw the serial of numbers that must have belonged to Derrick—she didn't recall ever deleting his number from her phone, but it must have happened when she'd given up the smallest (secret) hopes of the possibility for them to get back together when they started the eighth grade, and declared the boyfast.

**I need to talk to you.  
****Massie.  
Massie.  
Massie.  
Answer your phone.  
It's important.  
Please answer me, Massie.  
I gotta ask you something.  
You can't ignore this forever.  
Meet me after school?**

Massie swallowed hard, glad that her hair prevented Derrick from seeing her furiously blushing from his final text. Her thumbs flew over the keypad, and then hovered, as she thought about what to reply—what did she have to do after school that day? She knew there was something, but for some reason her mind was pulling a blank. The sound of the bell startled Massie, but not enough to make her accidentally drop her phone. The jolting of her shoulders must have been amusing, because she heard a soft chuckle, one she knew belonged only to Derrick himself. She quickly scooped up her belongings, tucking her phone into her back pocket, and bolting out of the class room without hesitation, wanting to put as much distance between her and the blonde boy as fast as she possibly could and disappearing into the first girl's bathroom she could find.

**(SOS)  
To: DYLAN, KRISTEN, CLAIRE, ALICIA**

With only seven minutes to spare, Massie paced around the pink-gold-and-white tiled bathroom, her phone glued to her hand as she waited for the arrival of her best friends. Thankfully, her silent pray had been answered, and the four girls filed inside, flipping the lock once the last Pretty Committee member was accounted for and they had checked for any lurkers hiding in the stalls—they were clear. Bags dropped to the floor, backs either pressed against the wall, the stall, or a butt was lifted to sitting on the sink counter, while Massie worked up the courage to speak about the issue: Derrick's desperate need to talk to her, and then asking for her to meet him after school. Maybe they could shed some light on whether or not she had plans. But Massie's tongue swelled up, her mouth stuffed with lead—_ugh_, why was this so difficult? There was nothing to be nervous about.

"Um, hello?" Alicia broke the silence, her tone bored, like there was some place else she'd rather be. An eyebrow was raised.

"_What_?" Massie snapped, taken by surprise of her sudden ability to talk—and just like that, she reentered her body: losing all timidness. Stopping in her tracks, she hadn't even realized that she was still pacing around, she rolled her shoulders back, a wry smile reprising on her coral pink lips. Her body vibrated with renewal, and it was something she thrived on. It felt amazing, it felt good to feel back to normal, even if she wasn't crowned the queen of her school, or alpha of her clique. "Okay, so I found out that I have my second period class with Derrick—he's the only person there that I know, like what the hell?—and the entire period he spent it trying to get my attention. Trying to talk to me at first, saying that he needed to ask me something, and then blowing up my phone when I said nothing." Her amber eyes narrowed skeptically as she looked from one PC member to another, hoping that they might have something to offer about, but nothing came, and she continued, "I finally looked at my phone, because it was beginning to get annoying. And that's when I saw this," She pulled up the text messages, having her friends pass around the iPhone to look at them; she still had yet to reply and after talking with her girls, she hoped she'd know what to say.

"What do you think it means?" Kristen asked, holding Massie's phone in her possession.

"Is he just being friendly now that you're back?" Claire inquired.

"Why would he? They didn't get along before, why should he bother now?" Alicia interjected from behind the rest of the girls, her arms firmly folded over her ample chest. Massie fought the urge to roll her eyes, but even she didn't know the answer to that, because the Latina made a point. "I think he's just playing games with you, because he had all the time in the world to reach out to you, before and after you moved away."

"Do you think he wants to get back together?" Dylan's question surprised her, and it shocked her even more when she didn't even detect a trace of jealousy. But then again, _Dylan _had broken up with _him_. Whether they were on good terms or not, was beyond her. Massie shrugged at the redhead, scrunching her nose up slightly, as she retrieved her phone back from Kristen.

"I don't think you should go." Alicia dejected, "It could be a trick, and he's just setting Massie up for the ultimate humiliation."

"Don't be such a Debby Downer, Leesh." Claire shot at Alicia, but it was her natural light and loving tone that was making Massie swell with pride from having her friend on her side. It counted, and it mattered most that somebody was encouraging her to meet up with Derrick. But it also made her feel good that somebody was against it—almost like the devil and angel on her shoulder. "You'll never know what he could want if you don't go."

"She's right," Kristen agreed.

"I say go for it," Dylan insisted, her leafy green eyes locking onto Alicia. "What makes you think Derrick's gonna trick her?"

"Because he's one of _them_, and he is known for this kind of shit. You can't trust him, Massie. I'm just looking _out_ for you, like any best friend would." The Latina snorted in response, rolling her eyes as if the answer should've been obvious. But it didn't settle right with any member of the Pretty Committee—of course, it would have been different if Claire and Cam weren't dating. It would have been different if the girls did not spend night of the eighth grade dance hanging out with them, and then going to Kemp Hurley's house afterward because no one felt like going back to their respective houses. It would have been different if Alicia didn't lie in front of them about the Pretty Committee not being friends with Massie to Derrick and Cam the day they'd gone to the mall. It would have been different if Alicia wasn't holding a secret from a certain somebody.

But nobody bothered to argue with Alicia, instead six pairs of eyes stared intensely at Massie to see what she had to say.

"Let's go," Massie said after a beat, lifting her bag from the ground and hoisting the Michael Kors over her shoulder, turning on her heel and flipping the lock on the bathroom door, stalking out into the hall and toward her next class without so much as a glance back at the Pretty Committee. It was clear that she was torn, and the whole debate had struck a nerve with her, but not because she trusted what Alicia had said, but because she _didn't_—there was just something about the way she said it that was unsettling to her.

Claiming her seat in her third period class (Algebra I), she sunk down and pulled her phone to eye-level, her thumbs scuttling over the keyboard quickly: she wasn't going to ignore this, there was something wrong with the picture. . . yes, Alicia had made a point about the randomness of Derrick trying to talk to her, but she also knew that there had to be a reason behind it, other than wanting to finally put the water under the bridge from ancient history. The urgency was kind of cute, but it was also a little suspicious, and if she didn't find out what it was, it would begin to eat away at her, constantly wondering what Derrick had to say to her.

Clicking on the messages from Derrick, she saved his number into her phone so she wouldn't forget it, composed her reply, then pressed send.

**To: DERRICK  
****Name the place. I'll be there. Pinky swear.**

* * *

**AN: HEY GUYS, I started writing this chapter when I got home from celebrating my birthday last night, and I was really happy to have finished it tonight. I hope you guys like it! And as I mentioned when I first started writing this story, there is no particular direction that I am writing, it has no aim, it's just touch and go to see where this could lead. **

**By the way, are you guys excited about Halloween in thirteen days? Do you have any plans? What are you dressing up as?**

**And _please _give me your feedback! I need to know what you guys think so I can continue writing for you!**


	6. Mess of Things

**NEW YORK, NEW YORK  
PINKBERRY  
Wednesday, September 5th — 4:14PM**

_Ding_.

Approaching the door, one hand pressed against the frosted glass, Massie turned her body a quarter, and cast one final wave to the sleek black limo as it timidly pulled away from the curb; three hands shot out the window to frantically waving back. She could vaguely hear what her friends were saying but she smiled as if she did. She was glad that most of her friends were supportive, but it truly bothered her that Alicia was very Anti about this get-together with Derrick—it wasn't like anything was going to happen, they were just two exes that were going to finally bury the hatchet and become friendly. Who knows, maybe he could become the best guy friend she never really had. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold, her amber eyes swiftly surveying the floor, and swallowing hard when she did not immediately detect the familiarity of the younger Harrington's dirty blonde hair, puppy dog brown eyes, or warm smile. Slowly, she strode toward the counter, and casually pulled her phone out of her purse, tapping the screen to turn it on—no new messages. The closer she got to the counter, the more she wondered if maybe. . . just maybe. . . Alicia was right about it being just a ploy to humiliate Massie, he'd have good reason to, given their history of the first few months in the eighth grade, and she was naturally referred to as an "Ice Cold Bitch" who deserved everything that came to her. Namely insulting him in front of his friends and firing them back at her, putting the boys in Tiffany trailers as payback for getting the PC sent in there in the first place because she didn't want to give into his "small list of tasks" to be _forgiven _for the way they acted during the last few weeks of being in seventh, and shoving him into her pool to release the hold on him so he and Dylan could take their romance public.

Suddenly, her throat was hot and itchy, her chest instinctively tightening, the world around her seemed to go in and out of focus. _Oh my god_.

"Miss?" The redhead at the counter squeaked out, snapping her fingers to get Massie's attention. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly, she stepped forward, and forced a smile, allowing herself to briefly look over the selections and choosing the Green Tea Latte with organic gummy bears—the old Massie completely detested anything sugary like the sweets that Cam had always gifted to Claire, it wasn't that she hated what it did to her body, she just never found them appealing, and lacking flavor. But after living in London, there was a sweets factory that James had dragged her to, and she just couldn't say no. Stepping off to the side after paying, Massie casually glanced around the spacious but still compacted area, softly nipping at her glossy lower lip—there was also the possibility that Derrick had come early, waited, and thought Massie was blowing him off. . . which was logical, _right_? But even Massie wouldn't be that cruel to stand somebody up when promising—pinky—to be there. Though, she had arrived almost fifteen minutes late because she was late to leave her last class; the rest of the Pretty Committee had patiently waited on her because even though Alicia was doubtful and suspicious, she still asked Dean to drop Massie off at Pinkberry for her meet-up with Derrick. She would have been later if Alicia hadn't pulled the life-threatening urgency tone in her voice that they _need_ to be there before 4, and it was a good half hour, close to an hour, drive from their new school to the Pinkberry across town. Which was strange, considering the way she'd acted earlier in the day. But Massie didn't bother to fuss about it.

A hand abruptly clamped down on Massie's shoulder, sending her whirling around on her heel and sending a sharp slap to the person's chest. She hated herself for acting out like that for being taken by surprise, and then a moment later, she was _furious _with herself because the person who'd snuck up on her, was none other than Derrick. The constriction melted away with ease and relief. His brown eyes twinkled, and his lips played an apologetic smile.

"Did you order yet?" Derrick asked; Massie noticed that his face was flushed a dark pink, the skin above his eyebrows and lip a little sweaty. _Oh_. He'd probably had to do something soccer related, or he took his skateboard there, instead of asking somebody for a ride.

"Yeah, I... uh, wasn't sure..."

"If I'd show up? I'm sorry, I got held up, but I wouldn't miss the chance to get some time to talk with you for the world, Block." He interrupted with a small chuckle, the apology in his tone matched his smile, allowing the genuine radiation to speak otherwise, and she immediately forgave him.

"It's okay, I would've ordered you something, but I dunno what you like, anyway." Her voice trailed off slightly, recalling that he'd never really eaten at Pinkberry, as far as she knew—whenever she suggested going there while they were dating, he'd politely declined and took her elsewhere, someplace that she assumed they would both like, and he'd been right.

"It's fine, we came here for _you_." He slung an arm loosely around her, his embrace awkward and tentative, squeezing her softly before stepping back, as if suddenly feeling like he'd over-crossed a boundary. His expression looking as if he'd been slapped. Massie's eyebrows knit together in confusion, but before she could say anything, her name had been called from the counter, and she watched as Derrick grabbed the Fro-Yo from the redhead who'd taken Massie's order, and smiled humbly, placing his free hand on the brunette's shoulder as a gesture to follow him, taking a seat by the window with Massie in tow, being placed across from him. Derrick stuck the plastic spoon in the Fro-Yo, ate a bit of it off the end, and his face immediately scrunched up, pushing it in Massie's direction. She couldn't help but start giggling, dragging her Fro-Yo to being in front of her, and swiping the spoon out of his hand so she could start eating it, scooping one of the organic gummy bears into her mouth and chewing slowly.

"So, uh... what did you have to ask me?" She asked, bringing some of the Fro-Yo into her mouth with the next gummy bear, struggling to talk and eat her frozen treat at the same time without having any dribble out.

"Well, first, I wanted to tell you that you look great, Mass." He eyed her in a way that reminded her of when they were dating, but she quickly shrugged it off. "Also, what brings you back to Westchester? None of us thought we'd be seeing you again."

"My dad got a job opportunity to bring us back to the States, and he jumped right on it." She stuck her spoon into the center of her Fro-Yo, letting her eyes wander out the window for a brief moment before looking back at Derrick. "I don't mind, but, now things are exactly the way that they used to be—Dad's always working, Mom's always out with her friends or doing some kind of activity. . . leaving me in the care of Inez."

"It wasn't like that in London?"

"No, my Dad was able to work from home, my mom spent her days with her British friends in the parlor, and we had tons of servants. Nothing like here. I never felt alone while we were in London." She sighed softly, scooping a decent size heap of Fro-Yo into her mouth, patting it with her tongue to thaw it out before swallowing it.

"Can I ask you something that's been bothering me?" Derrick's eyes seemed to have lost their gleam, and Massie couldn't help but just stare at him, wondering what was turning the wheels in his mind, slowly nodding. "A few days ago, me and Cam saw the Pretty Committee at the mall, and you were there... but I'd been told that you guys aren't friends anymore, and. . . you guys seemed like you were the best of today—what's up with that?"

Massie willed her eyes not to widen in shock or panic as Derrick spoke, and thankfully her eyelids obeyed. Somebody had _told _the boys that Massie was no longer friends with the Pretty Committee? Anyone who followed the five girls on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter would know they were closer than ever due to the consistent back and forth between tagging and posting, poking. They would know that the PC had flown to London for spring break, and they'd all gone on a Caribbean cruise for the first two weeks of summer, posting pictures practically every hour. For a moment, she thought of going along with it, and just simply saying that they'd made up when she surprised the girls by showing up unexpectedly at the Rivera's Sunday afternoon. But looking Derrick in the eye had caused her mind to pull a blank, unable to think of anything witty and ass-covering—her internal battery was on low, it appeared, when in the presence of a cute boy; ex or not.

"You need to check your sources, Harrington." She replied after a beat, hating the snippy and dismissive tone of her voice. Her eyes never left his, though. Legitimately, he understood that she wasn't trying to sound harsh, and it made her relax in her seat. "The girls and I have talked non-stop since I left for London, the only thing they didn't know was that I was returning for good, because I wanted to surprise them."

"I'm gonna ha—"

"Wait up, _I_ have a question for _you_." Massie blurted before she could stop herself, finding that now was the **perfect** opportunity to bring up the mystery girl he was supposedly dating. He closed his mouth, his dark ashen blonde eyebrows raising up curiously, leaning forward to pushing his weight as he propped one elbow on the table, cupping his hand under his chin. "So, um... there's been some rumors circulating, and I couldn't help but wondering if you could clarify something for me."

"What's that?"

"Supposedly you're dating some girl on the DL." She swallowed hard, keeping her eyes locked with his to show him that she would not care who it was, she just wanted to know out of curiosity—_as a friend_.

"Fuck," Derrick muttered so lowly that Massie barely heard the four-letter word come out of his mouth, his eyes dropping to the table almost instantly, and a hand running through his matted dirty blonde hair. For a moment, Derrick looked like he was seriously contemplating something—almost like he was wondering if he could trust Massie enough to tell her the truth about who he was seeing. She tried not to feel offended, but she was better at keeping secrets than Alicia: everyone knew that. Him, of all people, especially. "Okay, um.. you gotta promise not to get mad."

"Why would I..?" She was suddenly aware of just how fast her heart was beating inside of her chest, or was that _his_?

But Derrick didn't say anything, although he looked up from the table to meet her gaze again, and it surprised her to find a flash of what looked like_ fear _to be clouding his brown eyes. An uncomfortable silence floated above their heads as Massie silently tried to figure out who he could possibly be dating that would make him think she would get angry, that he was afraid to actually say it aloud. Usually her mind worked with IM-swiftness, but because it was _Derrick_, she was forced to be working on Dial-Up while trying to calculate just exactly what this situation was calling for. There were only four girls she truly cared about, that she considered to be her best friends, they were like blood sisters, and it was a great feeling because she was an only child. And the last time she'd been mad at her group of friends was because Dylan had been crushing on Derrick and she'd gotten Dempsey stolen from her by Kristen—but that was in the past, and the girls knew how deadly it was to be snatching up an Alpha's ex. But at the same time, Massie no longer technically _owned_ Derrick the way that she had; she'd lifted the "hold " over a year ago so he and Dylan could be together. Dylan had broken up with Derrick (she doubted they would ever get back together), Kristen was too involved with school usually to even consider the idea of dating, Claire was completely enthralled with Cam (and even when she wasn't, she would never go for his best friend). . . which only left. . .

"_No way_," She whispered without even realizing, her mind clicking—the domino effect came into play immediately, the entire day flashed before her eyes in a single blur. But the things that stuck out most was the certain negativity and doubt and attempts to stop this meet-up from happening.

"Massie..." Derrick's voice was barely audible, sounding oddly like he was trapped underwater, and the brunette could only shake her head. _Impossible_. It would never happen, not in a million years—only, there was the possibility of anything. She was aware that he was studying her carefully, but he didn't dare speak. She wasn't angry with him, or anybody for that matter. There was no trace of rage bubbling in her blood. She had no reason to be. Or right. Derrick was not hers, and hasn't been for over a year. But what she did feel, was betrayal. A massive amount of _hurt _drowned out everything else—she never expected this to happen again.

"To be continued," The words flew out of her mouth as she abruptly stood, sending the chair screeching back, and as she hauled her bag over her shoulder, the soupy Green Tea Latte Fro-Yo tipped over, and spilled all over the table. But she hardly noticed, she was far too busy rushing out of Pinkberry, wrestling her phone out of her bag and speed-dialing one of the only few numbers that she knew by heart. It was impossible for her to be able to scroll through her contacts as she hurried down the block, her shoes clacking loudly against the sidewalk, blocking out the sounds of Derrick calling after her—she didn't take him as the type to run after the girl. But then again, there was a lot of things she didn't know about _a lot_ of people.

"Thanks for finally calling me," The bitterness was easily detected in the male's voice on the other line, picking up after the third ring. "It would have been a lot easier for you to just cancel on me, Massie, instead of making me wait for you like some hopeless idiot."

At first, Massie was far too upset to comprehend what he was saying, but the cool rush of air surrounding her seemed to help clear out her head, and it hit her with the force of a MAC truck. _Shit_. "I'm so sorry, things got pretty hectic, and I knew I should have called, but I didn't know how to..."

"Save it," Even though his tone was lighter, she knew he was still pissed. She had come to the realization that she _had _stood somebody up, the one person she'd been dying to see since before she left for London—all because she'd been so anxious to speak to Derrick. Boy, did she understand how screwed up she currently was feeling, and all she could do was swallow back the tears that threatened to spill. "Wait, Mass... are you—are you _okay_?"

It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't brooding in silence like she thought as she listened to him talk, she was actually hiccuping and sniffling, the only sounds possible when trying so hard not to cry—she was just lucky that she was able to keep the tears back, at least whilst in public. The moment she was out of sight, in the safety of somebody's car, she knew that a break down was necessary—only, she couldn't quite figure out why this hurt so much, why she was getting so emotional over this. Hopefully an explanation would be thought of once she got around to explaining the situation, _if _she did—God only knew that this would be the last thing to talk about once she was off the streets.

"Can you come get me? Please?" She murmured, then rattled off the description of where she was, unsure of the exact location other than the fact that she was near Pinkberry.

"I'll be there soon," he promised and then ended the phone call.


	7. Calm Before the Storm

**THE CRANE HOUSE  
Wednesday, September 5th — 5:42PM**

Two things happened a half hour after Massie hung up the phone—one, she'd been taken by surprise of the black Lincoln Navigator pulling up in front of Slice of Heaven (where she'd been hiding out in case Derrick came searching for her) and two, the tiny head of her Pug popped out the window as soon as it had been rolled down in the back—pink tongue lapping at the wind, paws dancing excitedly against the door, bottom wagging on hyper-mode. Massie all but sprinted out of the brick, oregano-smelling oven and dove less than gracefully to being stretched across the buttery leather seats as soon as the door had been kicked open, landing with her bony butt in the black-haired, blue-green-eyed hero that she'd accidentally bailed on because of stupid Derrick Harrington with his stupid blonde hair, stupid dopey brown eyes, and stupid hidden relationship with someone she thought she could count on. Half of the ride back had been quiet, the two teens staring absently out the windows, taking turns scratching Bean behind her bat-like ears—Massie wasn't ready to speak, not just yet. Because if she did, she would openly start sobbing about the sudden pain piercing her heart, and how she felt so ultimately betrayed as she tried to wrap her head around it. And thankfully, he understood. His hand grazed over hers more than once while petting the Pug, and the young girl could only focus on how hard, how fast, her heart was beating inside of her chest, because there it was—the spark that zapped her skin the moment their hands touched, the electric pull that had drawn them together almost immediately upon first meeting at the Ho, Ho, Homeless. About half way into their drive, Massie finally cleared her throat, and thanked him for picking her up—he said he'd always come to her rescue, and she blushed furiously. He still didn't press the matter of why she'd stood him up, but he was a patient guy, she knew that. When the Lincoln Navigator shifted into park in front of the modern brick house, neither would have moved if it weren't for Bean, who suddenly started whining, and letting out a high-pitch howl; both of them knew that the little dog had to use the bathroom. Giggling nervously, Massie climbed out the car, thanking his mother this time for getting her, and she said it was no problem, with the biggest, and warmest of smiles; Bean darted out and went straight for the center of the lawn, piddling as soon as her behind was in a squat. A deep, low and husky but somehow boyish chuckle sounded from the other side of the Navigator. Doors being hip-checked in sync, they met at the tip of the car, and awkwardly, tentatively, and slowly embraced each other—but as soon as their arms were encircled around the other's, they melted against one another, her head fitting perfectly under the arc of his throat, his face nuzzling into her hair. A soft, gentle breeze nipped at the exposed bits of Massie's flesh, sending goosebumps raising up her arms, causing her to snuggle in closer to him, and she could feel his smile against the top of her head.

What seemed like hours, but only been a few minutes, had passed before they broke apart, due to Celia coming out because she was concerned as to where they'd disappeared. Not too far ahead, with the door closing behind them, the two Pugs attacked each other with puppy kisses, and it warmed Massie's heart to see Bean so thrilled to see Bark after being apart for so long.

"Come on," He murmured, his hand finding hers, and lacing their fingers intertwined. Wordlessly, they walked into the house, Bean scampering in close behind, and bolting straight for where she smelled the other Pug, her long-missing crush, Bark Obama. Massie's eyes flickered around—everything in the foyer looked just as she remembered: slated gray floors, scarlet walls, and framed candids of Celia with tons of fashion icons. To the left was the living room, the polar opposite of the Block's Grand Room with its sparkling black granite floor, dark mahogany wood walls, and the few sparse items of furniture were dark, stylish, and contemporary. Up ahead was the spacious (but nowhere near like the Block's) kitchen: white cabinets, dark granite counter tops, and light wood floors mixed with white tiles that had a cool Aztec pattern painted on them in gold. At the beginning of the hall was a gold-navy-black themed bathroom, next was the home office and neat spare room. Taking the stairs to the second floor, was the bedrooms, bathrooms, and a room that had been contorted into a kind of music room that was used every now and then.

"Do you want something to eat, Massie?" Celia asked as she click-clacked toward the hallway, but was turning more toward the kitchen.

"I'm fine for right now, thank you." She replied earnestly, all too aware that if she ate, there was no possible way that she'd be able to stomach it. Celia smiled warmly, then disappeared down the hall, the door to the home office closing gently behind her with a soft _click_.

Massie was led into the living room, the TV immediately humming to life with a click of a button on the tiny silver remote, and both of their weights indented the four-person leather couch. Without thinking, Massie slid off her shoes after untying them at the ankles, and brought her legs up onto the couch, tucking her feet underneath her as she leaned more against the person beside her while trying to get comfortable, feeling his warmth radiate off his skin, pulling her in like a magnet. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, his fingers dancing lightly over her shoulder, and pressing a kiss to her forehead, before leaning his head on hers, while he kept his other hand tightly conjoined with her much smaller one. The two of them sat like that for the entire duration of a movie that had just started when the channel was put into the movie selections, both of them succumbing to the peaceful silence that permitted through the house—the only sounds heard was the occasional chatter from the home office, the Pugs' light snores from where they were curled up on Bark's plush bed, and the perfect sync of everyone's breathing.

"Hey, Massie?" his lips were at her ear, and it sent a tingle straight down to her toes.

"Hmm?" She murmured almost sleepily, almost mesmerized by the movie they were watching, with heavy eyelids.

"Can I ask you something?"

It was those five words that shot Massie to sitting straight up, untangling herself from beside him, her legs thrown out as if ready to jump up from the couch. Her heart was pounding, grinding harsh and fast against her ribs, threatening to break free with just the right wrong words to slip out. As if sensing Massie's alarm, Bean popped her head up, wriggled out from being squashed under Bark, and bee-lined to jumping on the sofa, perched in her owner's lap, almost like she was preparing herself to be the comfort that the brunette needed. Confused, he straightened himself out, and slowly took Massie's hand again, his blue-green eyes slightly becoming a squint—like he was trying to read too small print on a piece of paper, while trying to figure out just exactly what happened in that moment. She bit down on her tongue hard enough that she tasted blood, it was all she could do to keep from recoiling as her mind wandered back to what happened in Pinkberry, and her pulse spiked.

Releasing the pressure on her tongue, she swallowed, and muttered, "of course you can."

"Why didn't you call me ahead of time to tell me that you had other plans?" Landon asked—there was only the hint of hurt that lingered in his words, none of the anger that had been evident when she'd first called him. "I would have understood, you know that." She stared at him longingly, drinking in everything, as she thought of what to tell him—would he judge her for jumping at the opportunity of talking to Derrick? Think she was pathetic? Would he think that she still had _feelings_ for him? If confronted with that assumption, she had no idea how to respond. Sure, one hand she was incredibly jealous when she heard that there was another girl in the picture after his break-up with Dylan. Absolutely seething at the idea of another girl kissing him. It had been torture enough when it had been her redheaded friend. And now, oh, now. . . she had to put on a brave face because Derrick was side-lining with _Alicia _of all people. There was hardly any comfort in the fact that they were not exclusive. But that didn't mean if you turned her upside down like an empty can of soda and shook her to test if there was any remnants, that droplets would slip from the sides or be unstuck from the bottom.

She thought about lying to him, but with the meeting of their eyes—a stormy Caribbean meeting fierce amber flames—she found that impossible. But that didn't mean she couldn't not forge the truth, only a little. "An old frenemy of mine wanted to meet up, we had some unfinished business because we never got the chance to talk before I left New York... I'm sorry that I didn't call you. I was just . . . so excited to finally put everything behind us, and try to really be friends, that everything else just sort of slipped my mind at that moment."

To her surprise, he softly chuckled, and ran his free hand through his ink black hair, the hint of a crooked smile touching his lips. "I guess I can't blame you, everyone wants to bring Massie Block back into their life all at once. I should have expected it, huh?"

"Y—Yeah," she forced out a small giggle, inching closer to him in attempt to relax herself, wanting to be near him to ease the tension in her muscles. He always had that effect on her. It allowed her battery to die in more ways than some, which terrified her, but she also loved it at the same time.

"Things must have not gone so great, if you got upset, and had to call me?" His head tilted a little, the squint returning. Trying to figure her out again. How did Landon Crane manage to completely wipe her mind clean of all the bad things, but somehow reel them back in, at the same time? Gnawing softly on her lower lip, she nodded. Not able to trust her voice now, for fear that she would cry. "Damn, Massie," his lips curved into a frown, and she felt like she got slapped. "C'mere." And with that, he encircled his arms around her, and held her close against him, tightly hugging her as best as he could, letting his left hand rub slowly and gently at her back, while the right caressed at her chestnut silky locks. "This friend doesn't deserve you in their life if they upset you, friends shouldn't hurt each other, y'know?" He was whispering, but the words sounded like they were being screamed into her ears, because she knew that he was right—but sometimes it was unintentional, sometimes it was just pure vindictiveness, or maybe it was trapped in the middle, and there was no explanation, because you didn't know the full story. Massie had her fair share of hurting her friends in the past. She'd hurt _a lot _of people, but it was nowhere near like what she was currently feeling because of the Alicia/Derrick predicament. Or at least that's what she thought, anyway. People had hurt her, as well. Unintentionally and driven strictly by motive. It was an unfair game.

They were only human.

But being in Landon's arms, that made the weight of it all slide right off her back, becoming a puddle of anxiety to deal with later. _This was her own personal kryptonite, or drug, or relaxer. Or whatever you wanted to call it, this weakener, it was working. _She didn't want to leave it, but she knew that she eventually would have to. The stress melting away felt exceptionally good as they moved to lying down on the couch, Landon cramped, squished between Massie and the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around her, clutching her firmly against him, as they watched another movie.

Massie long forgetting about the iPhone that consistently buzzed inside of the Crane's Lincoln Navigator, demanding her attention.

* * *

**AN: Hello, my lovely readers. Just wanted to wish everyone a belated Happy Halloween. Can you believe that it's already November? Where the hell did the year _go_? It's crazy!  
**But, what did you think of the chapter? I wanted some kind of grounding between Massie and Landon. I promise that this isn't all about them. It will be a Massington story, I just can't bring them together right away. I've got something planned. When it comes to the breaking realization later on, I hope you guys love me for the one line that probably stole half of the girls in this world's hearts.

_That _is something to anticipate, I know I can't wait for that chapter to come. But, it won't be for a little while. Gotta make it worth the while.


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